to worry about in that.”
“I am worrying about the girl,” said Tommy. “She will probably be let in to marry that young man whether she wants to or not.”
“Darling,” said Tuppence, “don’t be foolish. Women are never the wild gamblers they appear. Unless that girl was already perfectly prepared to marry that pleasant but rather empty-headed young man, she would never have let herself in for a wager of this kind. But, Tommy, believe me, she will marry him with more enthusiasm and respect if he wins the wager than if she has to make it easy for him some other way.”
“You do think you know about everything,” said her husband.
“I do,” said Tuppence.
“And now to examine our data,” said Tommy drawing the papers towards him. “First the photograph—hm—quite a nice looking girl—and quite a good photograph I should say. Clear and easily recognisable.”
“We must get some other girls’ photographs,” said Tuppence.
“Why?”
“They always do,” said Tuppence. “You show four or five to waiters and they pick out the right one.”
“Do you think they do?” said Tommy—“pick out the right one I mean.”
“Well, they do in books,” said Tuppence.
“It is a pity that real life is so different from fiction,” said Tommy. “Now then what have we here? Yes, this is the London lot. Dined at the Bon Temps seven thirty. Went to Duke’s Theatre and saw Delphiniums Blue. Counterfoil of